


Mostly Dead

by thingswithwings



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Porn Magazines, Repression, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-07
Updated: 2008-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Okay, so, is this because I died?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mostly Dead

  
When Rodney dies, it somehow becomes John's job to clean out his quarters, box things up to send to Jeannie or to donate to science (aka Zelenka). In the process, he learns a lot of things about Rodney that he didn't know: that Rodney kept a picture of the team (fuzzy surveillance shot taken in the gateroom) in his top desk drawer; that Rodney totally did have a stash of popcorn and had been lying about it for the last four months; that Rodney did, in fact, own jeans; that Rodney was gay; that Rodney still had a certificate for first prize in the Kenora District Festival of the Arts piano recital flattened neatly between two books; that Rodney kept all of his important research and discoveries neatly sorted and cross-indexed in both paper and electronic files, for the purposes of easy data recovery in the event of his death.

The last one is such a perfect example of the way in which Rodney was thoughtful: he was terrible at birthdays and holidays, but his will was air-tight and up to date. What a jerk, John thinks, tossing out the old chip bags that he found under the bed.

The gay thing is also kind of a surprise to John, who always just thought that Rodney was really bad at being straight in the same way he was really bad with people, where he honestly wanted to do better at it. But no, there it is in the closet, a huge stack of magazines (seven magazines) all filled with cock: guys sucking cock, guys taking cock up the ass, guys lying spread-eagled on the beach with their own cocks in their hands, pointing them helpfully towards the camera. John glances over them with a sort of intellectual curiosity, trying to imagine Rodney flipping through these pages and getting hard, jacking himself off late at night after all the Atlantis personnel were snug in their beds.

He doesn't know what else to do with it, so when he empties out the room, he takes the porn back with him to his quarters, along with the popcorn and the fuzzy shot of him and Ronon and Teyla and Rodney standing in the gate room laughing.

Then he gives away the rest of Rodney's stuff: the science stuff to Zelenka, along with Rodney's favourite Ancient device that doesn't make sense (a ball that just seems to light up with random plays of colours and patterns); the incredibly dorky collection of Star Trek novels to Ambrose (except for _Spock Must Die!_ , which he keeps for himself; Rodney would've wanted it that way); the sheet music – why in the fuck does Rodney have sheet music – to Ronon; and the hand-made Athosian quilt back to Teyla. When he shows up at Teyla's door, quilt in hand, she pulls him inside, and hugs him, and then they talk about Rodney for a while.

"I miss him greatly," Teyla says, in that easy formal way of hers.

"Yeah," John agrees, looking at his hands.

-

The thing is, not knowing that someone was gay isn't a big deal: there's lots of stuff that John doesn't know about his teammates, or the people under his command, or his superiors, it's just how things are. Lots of people are gay. But John can't stop thinking about Rodney, who pursued women relentlessly, who dated Katie Brown and Jennifer Keller and Marcie Wells, who never stopped talking about Sam Carter's legs, lying in his lonely bed at night and jerking off to ten year old pictures of tanned twinks in ridiculous positions. It makes him feel hot and angry inside, so he picks up one of the magazines, one night, and jerks off to it furiously, turning the pages quickly with his left hand, flicking from dick to dick. The picture that gets him off is one of a man on his knees, just tilting his face upwards and starting to open his mouth, just about to give a blowjob to the man standing over him, the man with a hand in his hair.

When he's done, he throws the magazine onto the floor, hard, not caring. He hears one of the pages rip.

Ten minutes later, he gets out of bed and picks it up, smoothing out the pages and placing it back neatly in the stack with the others.

-

When Rodney comes back from the dead, it somehow becomes John's job to get him all his stuff back, as if Rodney isn't the one who bequeathed all those Star Trek novels to Ambrose.

"You couldn't have waited a little longer? Out of respect for the dead?" Rodney grumbles, looking at the pile of disorganized, worthless crap that he's gotten back from people. Teyla shoots a cautious look at John, who shrugs.

"We waited three months," Ronon says, sounding really mild but looking like he might punch Rodney in the face if it weren't such an unfair fight.

"Oh," Rodney says. "I didn't know it was that long."

John doesn't give Rodney back his porn.

-

"Okay, so, is it because I died?" Rodney asks, showing up at John's door, late at night. "Is that why you're so pissed at me?"

John pinches the bridge of his nose. "What?"

"You're obviously pissed off, and I assume you're feeling residual, you know, _feelings_ , because of my death the other month. Can I come in?"

John blinks at Rodney, then gestures him inside.

"So," Rodney says, apparently not sure what to do now he's standing in John's quarters at one in the morning, "stop it, okay? I can't help that I died. It was no picnic for me, either."

"I'm not mad at you because you died, Rodney," John says evenly.

"Then why?"

John rolls his eyes. "I'm not mad at you at all, Rodney."

"Bullshit," Rodney says. "You haven't said more than six words together to me since I got back."

John bites his lip, feeling that old familiar heat boil up in his chest. "Well, maybe I got used to you not being here, did you think of that?"

Rodney recoils as if slapped. John sighs. "Here, look, let me give you your stuff back," he says. He gets the fuzzy gateroom photo, and he gets the copy of _Spock Must Die!_ , and he even gets what's left of the popcorn, and he hands it to Rodney in a pile. Rodney doesn't meet his eyes, just looks down at the junk in his hands. Then John opens the closet, and pulls out the shoebox with the magazines, and hands them to Rodney, too.

It's the same shoebox that Rodney used to store them, so he recognizes it immediately, and blushes. John hates him for blushing.

"Oh god," Rodney chokes out, sounding half embarrassed and half angry, "Is that it? Is that why you're so pissed? Because you found, found porn? I can't believe you, I can't believe that I _died_ and then _came back from the dead_ and you're upset because of _this_."

"I ripped one of them by accident," John says quietly, confessing inexplicably. "Sorry. I taped it up."

"Look," Rodney says, talking fast now, the way he talks his way out of Genii hostage situations and team performance evaluations. "Look, I'm not gay or anything, I've never – you know, I've never, uh, dated a guy. I just, I liked to . . . " Rodney trails off, clearly not sure how to finish that sentence in a non-homosexually incriminating way. There's no doubt in John's mind, though, that Rodney's telling the absolute and unvarnished truth, so John steps forward and knocks the box of porn out of Rodney's arms (it thumps to the floor) and takes Rodney's face in his hands, gently, so gently, and kisses him.

Rodney doesn't move for a long moment, frozen in place, but John just sidles up closer to him, puts the heat of his body into Rodney's space, and kisses him, and kisses him, slow and wet and chaste, soft. Rodney's hands, still clutching the photo and _Spock Must Die!_ and two plastic-wrapped packages of shitty microwave popcorn, come up to circle John's back: Rodney crosses his arms at the wrists, pulling John in, bringing them closer, and John feels things shift and change as Rodney relaxes his jaw, and opens his mouth, and slides his tongue slow and dirty and hesitant against John's.

The sound of their mouths is loud and obscene in the quiet room, the sound of Rodney's little mmmmm's and John's little gasps when they shift positions. The kissing goes on for a long time, and John doesn't think he'll ever get enough of Rodney's hot bitter mouth against his. He runs his hands desperately over Rodney's shoulders, his neck, curling one hand into Rodney's hair and tugging a little, just a little, just to keep him in place.

When they stop kissing, Rodney presses his forehead to John's shoulder, panting heavily, like he's just run a race. John keeps his hand in Rodney's hair, carding through it.

"I meant it," Rodney says, "I've never – "

"I know," John says shortly. "It's okay. I have."

Rodney raises his head and meets John's eyes. "I'm sorry," he says.

"It's okay," John says again. "I'm glad you're back."


End file.
